The Rose.

THE ROSE.

DEAR flower of heaven and love! Thou glorious thing
That lookest out these garden nooks among;
Rose, that art ever fair and ever young!
Was it some angel on invisible wing
Hovered around thy fragrant sleep, to fling
His glowing mantle of warm sunset hues
O’er thy unfolding petals, wet with dews
Such as the flower-fays to Titania bring?
O flower of thousand memories and dreams,
That take the heart with faintness, while we gaze
On the rich depths of thy inwoven maze;
From the green banks of Eden’s blessed streams
I dreamed thee brought, of brighter days to tell,
Long passed, but promised yet with us to dwell.